


Straight From Inside

by SurlyCat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Background Character Death, Castiel and Drug Use, Castiel and Jimmy Novak Are Twins, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, John Winchester's Bad Parenting, M/M, No Sex, Polyamory, Terrible Life AU, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 18:08:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1753761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SurlyCat/pseuds/SurlyCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean Smith accidentally botches a huge potential sale at Sandover, it feels like his world is collapsing. Fortunately, his boyfriends Cas and Jimmy are there to help pick up the pieces with some much needed words and domestic comfort, and all three men come to some important realizations in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Straight From Inside

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shiphitsthefan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiphitsthefan/gifts).



> Congrats to shiphitsthefan, for winning my 500 Follower Fic Giveaway! This fic was their prompt and wouldn't have happened without them. Thank you Ship, for your general awesomeness and support as I wrote this :D They also made the majority of the 8Tracks playlist [here](http://8tracks.com/surlycat/straight-from-inside). 
> 
> For those who are familiar with my other works, I'm going to go ahead and warn you right now that this is definitely not in my normal fluffy style. This story is about three people with their own issues and histories, and how each of them want to grow and change. It's basically a lot of feelings. No seriously, like a bathtub full of feelings. CHECK THE TAGS.
> 
> Title taken from "Radioactive" by Imagine Dragons. Hope you enjoy :)

Dean knew he'd fucked up, god did he ever know it. The deal had been going beautifully, and the Taggart account would've not only been the biggest account that Sandover could've landed, but this deal had been in the works for _months._ And Dean Smith, Sandover's young sales prodigy was, until twenty minutes ago, achingly close to securing the deal as well as his future. But then one wrong name brought up in what was supposed to be a statement of reassurance, and it was over in an instant. Of course Dean had immediately picked up on the looks he was given, ranging from unimpressed to horrified, to downright angry, but he truly didn't know what he'd said wrong or how to smooth it over.

Dean's pulse had roared in his ears and the beginnings of a cold sweat had broken out on the back of his neck as he realized that whatever faux pas he had unknowingly committed had just cost his company nearly half a billion dollars in that moment. He'd barely held back on puking right there in front of the clients as he mentally fumbled for a way to fix whatever he'd done wrong. He probably would have, if Zachariah hadn't been there to chime in with a distraction and a deprecating joke at Dean's expense. Dean missed the particulars of whatever Zachariah had said, as he was using every ounce of self-preservation he had to keep his lunch to himself and his breathing as deceptively steady as possible.

_"You little shit. Why in the HELL would you bring up York? No, you know what? Don't answer that. If I have to hear one more incompetent word out of your mouth…"_

Dean had sat there and took every vicious and spittle-infused word that a red-faced Zachariah had to fling at him, once they were behind the closed doors of his own office. Not that the doors actually afforded that much privacy, in light of the volume of Zachariah's voice. This is, unfortunately, how Dean had to learn that there had been bad blood between York and Taggart some century ago, that pretty much no one remembered anymore. He'd been mislead by the myriad of advertising over the last several years, featuring the 'happy partnership' of York and Taggart, and had had no idea that it was all just for show, for money and power. He'd really thought that the mention of the strength of the York account would make Taggart feel more confident in their choice.

Stupid. Dean had been so incredibly, unbelievably stupid, relying on what he'd been fed as a member of the public, rather than doing that extra little bit of research into Taggart's company history. It was a rookie mistake, and now Dean had not only cost his company an ungodly amount of money, but was certain to be fired for incompetence. Probably blacklisted from every major corporation, as well. It was humiliating, not only knowing that everything he'd worked for was probably about to dissolve into thin air, but that he was going to have to tell his parents that every dollar they'd scraped together to put him through school had been for nothing. The fact that Jimmy and Cas would surely have heard about it by now was just icing on the whole "Dean Smith is an embarrassing piece of shit" cake. Dean honestly didn't know if he could stand to see those matching sets of kind blue eyes leveled on him.

It didn't make him feel any more optimistic that Zachariah's tirade hadn't ended with a firing; it would be just like that asshole to wait a week- hell, two weeks, even- to let Dean get lured into a false sense of job security and then fire him for something negligible, like not itemizing his office supply request properly or some bullshit.

All the same though, he couldn't help but feel relief as the door to his office clicked shut behind Zachariah, giving Dean a minute to self-loathe in private. What he really wanted was to get the hell out of there and just hop in his Baby and drive to the most anonymous, sketchiest bar he could find and drown himself in cheap whiskey and stale pretzels; somewhere where the patrons would see a businessman having a rough day and nothing more. Those days had been long gone though, and Dean wasn't sure if his body could even tolerate strong liquor anymore, after years of toxin flushes and all things unhealthy kept a mile away at all times. Sure, he'd been proud of his own dedication and the results his healthy lifestyle had yielded, but right now that wasn’t what he wanted; he deserved to feel gross and bloated and get smelly alcohol sweats and be completely undesirable in every way humanly possible.

Realizing that he had no work left to do at the moment- which would've been an excellent distraction- Dean couldn't help the quiet, maniacal laugh that bubbled up. Dean Smith, the A+ go-getter and master of overachievement had managed to work himself so far ahead that he didn't even have his work to cling to in his distress over…work. Pathetic. And he knew on some level that his obsession over his health and work was an attempt at compensating for _unhealthy_ emotional responses and a need to prove to himself through action that he had value. Knowing is one thing, but fixing it when you're in the middle of a meltdown is a whole other.

Dean's thoughts were turning into a dark, chaotic storm as they collided and splintered against each other, some thoughts overlapping and others being carried away to the wind as he sat with his forehead on his desk. He heard the door to his office open without the preamble of a knock or announcement from his assistant and knew that it could only be Jimmy or Cas, but couldn't bring himself to look up; he didn't want to be looked at, and especially by Jimmy. At least Cas was familiar with the feeling of spectacular failure, as harsh as it sounded.

"Dean," came the soft gravel of Cas' voice. Dean sighed in something vaguely resembling relief, but didn't move. He heard an answering sigh, and the sound of Cas' shuffling gait drawing nearer, and then the unmistakable squeak of the chair on the other side of his desk as Cas gracelessly flopped down in it.

"I'm bullshit at pep talks and you know it, so I assume you also know that I'm not here to give you one," Cas drawled, sounding tired. "But I am here to make sure you get the fuck out of your office, because my brother is hung up in a meeting and can't do it himself."

"I can't leave yet," Dean muttered, still not looking up.

"Okay," Cas said, drawing out the word, then pausing for a moment. "Because what? You can't be seen wanting to leave after having a shitty day? Your pride isn't worth stewing in your own juices, so get your ass in gear and come on."

Dean did look up at that and glared at the man sitting across from him. As expected, it had no affect. Cas just looked right back at him, a rare show of stubbornness lining his features as he waited for Dean to respond. It may have been blunt and sort of gruff, but Dean knew that Cas' intention wasn't to insult; it was to incite Dean to action, to take care of himself.

Begrudgingly, Dean peeled himself from his desk and wordlessly, began the process of shutting down his workspace for the day, resolutely ignoring the look of approval from Cas. Once it was done, he gave Cas a curt nod, and the two set out to leave the office for the day. As expected, Dean caught peripheral glances aimed at him as they walked through, ranging between sympathetic and curious, but he pretended not to notice and took the way of least contact with co-workers to the elevator bank. Plus, without even looking, he got the sense that Cas eyeballed every single one of them, as if daring them to say something. Once inside the- thankfully- empty elevator, Dean finally turned to Cas. He didn't know what he intended to say, but a glance at those empathetic blue eyes told him that Cas didn't expect him to say anything, so Dean took the small mercy and kept his mouth shut; he didn't feel like talking, not yet.

Cas didn't even question the fact that Dean drove them to Cas and Jimmy's house, or the fact that Dean let himself in and went straight to Jimmy's room and dug through the dresser until he'd found a pair of pajama pants and an old t-shirt. It was strange to see Dean looking rumpled and less than pristine, but Cas would've been _more_ concerned if the man had tried to sit down in his suit and act like nothing was wrong; at least Dean wasn't in denial. And Cas did want to help Dean, but he'd never been so great with emotional issues. This wasn't a fact that Cas was proud of, and in times like these, he wished he could be good and strong and decent like his brother.

Instead, he bent over and reached under the couch that he and Dean were sitting on and pulled out a battered old cigar box, mostly out of habit. He dug through the little cigarette pack cellophanes full of pills and pot and some powders he couldn't quite identify at the moment, until he found the half of a blunt he hadn't finished the night before.

"Jesus, Cas! You can't just light that up right here. At least go on the back porch or something, so the house doesn't get all skunked up like weed," Dean chided, completely unfazed by the appearance of what Cas had dubbed his Naughty Box.

There was no way that Dean could've known that Cas had been slowly cutting himself back from all of it over the last couple of weeks, but the resignation in Dean's voice still stung. There was a time when Dean would have tried to convince Cas that he was worth more than the contents of that illicit box, and Cas was suddenly struck by the change in attitude, and the fact that he couldn't remember when Dean finally caved and accepted the disappointment. It hurt more than Cas expected, that Dean Smith, his friend that never gave up on people, seemed to have done just that. The hurt made him want to light up the blunt even more and just float away into the ether, where he could smile and laugh and ignore his own bullshit for a couple of glorious hours, and it's not like Dean would stop him. It was with that last thought though, that the hurt intensified, and Cas remembered why he always went to his box in the first place.

Dean wasn't even looking at him now, just leaning back into the couch with his eyes closed and a furrow in his brow and an ugly frown twisting his mouth. Cas knew that Dean was in his own negative headspace and was justified in looking like that, but he also knew that his own behavior wasn't helping and frowned to himself. He was supposed to be supporting Dean, and instead was sitting there like a useless fuckwad, just making it worse. Dammit. This is exactly why he'd been cutting back, secretly: it was getting too hard to have to see the look of hopelessness aimed at him on Jimmy's face everyday, and now apparently, Dean had started looking that way too. Cas had kept his feeble attempt at bettering himself secret, because he didn't think he could handle it if he failed, and the subsequent looks/talks that Jimmy would give him in such an event.

Jimmy and Dean were basically all that Cas had left though, besides his stupid mailroom job at Sandover, and he only had that because Jimmy had pulled a couple of strings to get him hired without a whiz quiz. It didn't matter that Cas was beyond over-qualified for the job with an MBA, because he wouldn't have gotten the job without Jimmy's backing as one the executive accountants at Sandover.

Cas didn't realize he'd zoned out, blunt in hand and unlit, as he mused about how much he'd put on his brother's shoulders over the years, first with his utter breakdown following a monumental existential crisis at the ripe old age of twenty. Then, with the multitude of times that Jimmy had had to come to his rescue, whether because Cas was strung out and had no clue where he was, or to make sure he didn't fall out of the bed and crack his head on the floor in the midst of a night terror as he came off his high. Jimmy had shielded Cas from the brunt of their family's verbal attacks on him, made sure he finished school, housed him, and tried to create a stable environment for him, and what had Cas done? Throw it back in his face. Despite Cas' complete unraveling while they were in college, Jimmy had still loved him so fiercely, but like a selfish asshole, Cas had brought some stranger to their bed while he was tripping balls on god knows what. It's been years, but Cas will never forget the look of betrayal on Jimmy's face that night, no matter how many times Jimmy says he's forgiven him. And while it's true that Cas has been doing better- at least, waiting til after work to fuck around and holding this job for a record six months- he knows it's not enough.

"…about twenty minutes," Dean's voice drifted over, pulling Cas from his thoughts. He hadn't realized Dean was even talking until then, and Cas couldn't help the look of confusion that stole across his face. Dean quirked an unimpressed brow at him, accompanied by a small eye roll.

"Your brother. He texted and said he's on his way," Dean said flatly. Then he pointed at the forgotten blunt and lighter in Cas' hands. "You high enough you forgot to get high?" he asked dryly.

Normally, Cas would've shrugged the barbed comment off and lit up right there just for spite against himself more than anything. At that moment though, he felt shame and anger with a clarity that he hadn't experienced in a long time, due most likely to the fact that all he'd ingested that day were a couple of Vicodin and a bagel; it was a startlingly self-aware moment, as he wondered how long he had until Dean didn't even bother commenting on his habits at all.

Before he could contemplate it any further, Cas took a deep breath and shoved everything back in the box, and then back to its place under the couch and sat back up quickly, crossing his arms over his chest to keep them from reaching out to reclaim what he'd just put away. He may not be ready just yet to go flushing his stash and drinking Dean's nasty green concoctions, but this was something he could do. He owed Jimmy so much and he loved both men to a nearly terrifying degree, and the realization that he not only stood to lose them, but had already begun was like a punch to the face. Cas knew that he'd already lost a part of Jimmy years ago, but the thought that he was doing the same to Dean, although it should've been obvious, hadn't been until now.

When Cas finally felt like he could look into Dean's eyes, he'd expected to see something like the reproach of 'too little too late'. What he was met with instead though, was a look of thinly veiled bewilderment, which was almost worse. He'd done it now, he'd gone and basically outed the fact that he was _trying_ , and had to make a conscious effort to stomp down on the anxiety of imminent failure.

"Don't. Just…not right now, okay?" Cas murmured. "If you can restrain yourself from cleaning the house with a toothbrush and re-organizing the bookshelves- stop with the face, I know you're itching to do something proactive- then I can do something too. So. Lay it on me."

It didn't take a genius to see that something was definitely going on with Cas, but that usually meant watching the man get ready to go 'hang out with a friend', which could translate in any number of ways. Seeing the unusually focused eyes locked on his own with full attention was a bit discombobulating for Dean, but he didn't dare do anything to discourage the behavior and carefully schooled his features.

"I don't think I can talk about it, Cas," Dean admitted quietly. Cas nodded as if he'd expected that answer.

"Alright. Take your shirt off then, and I'll see if I can work some of that tension out of your back so you're a little more human by the time Jimmy gets here," Cas said, eyebrows raised slightly.

Now this was something Dean could get behind; Cas gave fantastic massages, and Dean wasn't about to pass that up. He pulled his shirt off, sparing a moment to internally preen under Cas' appreciative gaze before turning his back to him; Dean had seen Cas check out any number of men and women, but the only other person besides Dean that ever got that particular look was Jimmy. It didn't make Dean feel jealous though, it was the opposite; it made him feel valued, that he could garner affection of that level.

Moments later, the warm scent of something like cinnamon and cloves tickled Dean's nose, and he couldn't help but grin a little, because this wasn't going to be some short little shoulder-rub; Cas had brought out the massage lotion, which he only did when he meant business.

"Go to the bedroom and get on the floor, facing the bed, and rest your forehead on the side of the mattress," Cas prompted calmly.

Dean complied easily, shuffling to Jimmy's room and using the space beneath the bed to fit his legs while using the mattress to support his head. Cas joined him moments later, sitting behind him and framing Dean's hips with his legs. Where Jimmy's physical presence always lent Dean a sense of strength and security, Cas always felt like comfort and calm, like watching a cat stretch lazily in its sleep, if that could be an emotion. With Cas' serene presence and patient touch, Dean let himself finally take a deep breath and attempt to relax as those warm, nimble fingers set to work on the concrete slab that had become Dean's back that day.

Normally, Cas would've taken the opportunity by now to tease Dean about being high strung and the havoc it wreaks on his muscles, but right now, all he could feel was sadness at the reminder of what had caused so much tension. While it was true that Dean had made a pretty significant mistake, Cas knew that Dean still didn't deserve whatever abuse he'd taken from that dickface Zachariah; Dean was highly proficient at beating himself up, and didn't need any help. Cas wished- probably rather hypocritically- that Dean could just see what an incredible person he was, and how much he deserved to be loved, and that he didn't always have to perform to earn it. Even now, Dean was unconsciously fighting Cas' kindness, posture still stiff as if he were only humoring Cas by accepting this small bit of comfort.

Mindless of the lotion he was getting all over his own shirt, Cas leaned forward to drape himself across Dean's back and wrapped his arms around him in an unusual show of affection between the two of them. Dean stiffened when Cas' hand stroked over his stomach, but relaxed a bit when Cas pressed a gentle kiss to the side of his neck and sighed.

"I can't help you loosen up if you don't allow me," Cas murmured softly. "This day has been utter shit, but you're home now and deserve a fucking back rub, so please just take it, Dean."

Dean nodded minutely and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. Cas pulled back and watched as Dean finally let his shoulders slump a little, before going back to work. He poured every bit of feeling he could into his touch, hoping that Dean could get it; _I'm sorry I've hurt you- you are loved- you are so much more than what you can do- it's not the end of the world- you are important because you're you._

Cas' touch was almost painful in its sincerity; Dean could almost imagine that it was the sort of touch a pianist would reserve for a well-loved piece of music, and he felt an embarrassing lump form in his throat at the thought. Dean had never doubted that Cas felt things deeply, for the simple fact that in his own experience, those who felt the most tended to try the hardest to hide it, and Cas had been the master of apathy. Until now. Dean was exhausted and raw and the last thing he wanted was to start crying because of a goddamned back rub, so he was glad when he managed to turn what would've been a shuddering breath into a cough at the last second. Cas probably knew exactly what was going on, but wasn't the kind of person that would ever point it out or mock him for it, which inexplicably made Dean feel even more emotional.

Fortunately, the familiar sound of Jimmy's car pulling up distracted the both of them for a moment, and Dean breathed his relief at having something else to focus on. Cas' hands had only faltered briefly at the noise, but then went right back to their motions, though maybe a bit more distractedly than before. A minute later, the front door opened and closed, and then Jimmy's familiar footfall could be heard approaching the bedroom. Dean was glad that he had an excuse to not have to look up, because he still wasn't sure he was ready to meet his boyfriend's eyes. Cas may have been willing to let Dean get away with silence and brooding, but Jimmy was much more open and regularly made it a point to try and lure Dean out into talking about his feelings. It was as endearing as it was frustrating, but right now Dean just wasn't sure if he could do it.

To Dean's surprise though, Jimmy only entered the room with a soft, "Hey guys," and proceeded to strip off his own monkey suit, until he was down to his boxers, and crouched next to Dean and Cas. No words were exchanged, but Dean could practically feel the brothers having one of those silent conversations over his back, and was unsurprised when he felt Cas wordlessly back up a foot or two. Then Jimmy's hand was in Dean's hair, carding gently.

"Can you scoot back a little?" Jimmy was asking him.

Dean finally brought his eyes up to meet Jimmy's, and was relieved to see a simple fond little smile.

"There you are," Jimmy said, leaning in for a soft kiss. When he pulled back, Dean immediately missed his warmth and frowned before he could stop himself, but scooted back nonetheless.

He was rewarded when Jimmy crawled over to sit with his back against the bed and spread his legs wide, patting the floor between them.

"Use me, instead of the bed," Jimmy offered in explanation, touching a hand to the space beneath his own collarbone.

It became apparent quickly that that was easier said than done, and Jimmy finally ended up just straddling Dean's lap and leaning his back against the bed again. Once settled, Dean sighed when he could lean into the solid comfort of Jimmy's chest and obediently rested his head on Jimmy's shoulder. In a way it made Dean feel like a child, but that thought quickly dissolved when he felt Cas come back up behind him again and do his own leg arranging, until all three of them were comfortable, and started up with the back rub again. Because yeah, this was definitely a very adult situation, being sandwiched between two men that Dean was kind of in love with, but who were also in love with each other and were twins. Eesh.

Dean had given up some months ago, trying to put any specific name to how the three of them worked; they just did, despite how fucked up he knew it probably was. It was hard to care too much, when he had not one, but two different people that seemed to be fine with Dean's baggage and sometimes concerning persnickety behaviors and still wanted him. Of course he expected Jimmy to wake up any day now and decide that Cas was actually all he needed and push Dean away, but Dean was going to enjoy it while it lasted, dammit.

He hadn't realized that he'd let his thoughts distress him so much, until Jimmy's hand was back in his hair, and he was being shushed and told to calm down. When had he started breathing so hard? And when had Cas replaced his hands with his lips across Dean's shoulders? Oh god no, this was not happening. Dean Smith was not about to break down and cry like a child because he was being petted on after a bad day. If there were going to be tears, it would be due to a nice long spanking over Jimmy's lap, not some sappy bullshit because Dean couldn't handle getting yelled at.

Dean didn't realize he'd been babbling any of this, until the hand in his hair tightened and pulled his head up to look Jimmy firmly in the eye.

"No. Not tonight, Dean. I won't hurt you when you're already hurting; you should know I'd never punish you for being upset. And on that note, don't you dare try to invalidate the importance of your own feelings by chalking this all up to just a bad day at work. Not trying to rub it in by any means, but feeling bad is to be expected in your situation, and not some sort of weakness or 'area for improvement'. It's just being human, and there's nothing wrong with that. Now, if you'd like to talk, you know we're both all ears, but regardless you're getting the shit cuddled out of you," Jimmy ended with a little grin and a wink.

Jimmy's hand had slowly loosened in Dean's hair as he spoke, until it had let go completely and drifted down to rest against the back of his neck. The warmth and weight of it felt good resting there, as if by that small gesture, Dean was somehow the most important thing in the world at that moment. He couldn't help but snort a laugh at Jimmy's last comment and leaned back into the man's chest, pressing a small kiss to the man's collarbone.

Jimmy hadn't known what to expect when he came home, but he was more than grateful to his brother, when he walked in and saw in an instant that not only did Cas appear to be sober for the moment, but was also doing his best to keep Dean calm. It was a bittersweet sight, reminding Jimmy of better days when Cas had been protective of him like that, but he was glad all the same that Cas was able to pull it out for Dean. In fact, Jimmy couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Cas show that sort of intimacy with anyone at all, and something warm stirred in his chest because maybe, just maybe there was hope of getting his brother back, after all. That is, if Cas could get over his guilt long enough to realize that Jimmy wasn't just tolerating him, but that he still _needed_ Cas and probably always would. As much as they'd both changed over the years, Cas and Jimmy were still two halves of a whole, despite the way that 'whole' now had some gouges and cracks.

And then there was Dean. This good, strong, beautiful man that had not only accepted Jimmy's confession of his relationship with Cas, but had also accepted Cas himself, which could not be said of any of Jimmy's previous partners. Jimmy would always need and love Cas, but he also needed and loved Dean, who seemed to just fit right in there, filling the spaces between the brothers while managing to also carve his own place in there as well. Granted, Jimmy and Dean had only been together for about a year now, and Dean had only been aware of the brothers' history and Jimmy's necessity for Dean's tolerance for maybe eight months, so there were still some bumps as the three figured out how this thing worked for them. Still though, Dean had been open so far, and Jimmy regularly thanked his lucky stars for finding him.

All three men had fallen silent, and Dean realized after a few minutes that all pretense of a back rub was gone, and that the three of them had been sitting slumped together in a pile on the floor long enough that it was starting to get uncomfortable. Before he could say anything though, he was startled by the sudden rumble of Cas' voice against his back.

"My ass is asleep," Cas blurted.

Dean couldn't help but chuckle at the sudden announcement that reflected his own thoughts far too closely, and felt more than heard Jimmy let loose his own light laugh. Cas peeled himself from Dean's back slowly, groaning at the shift in position, and then groaning some more as he pulled himself to standing, muttering about 'being too old for this shit, piling up in the floor like teenagers'. Dean untangled himself from Jimmy as well, and looked over his shoulder to see Cas stretching and twisting with a deep frown pulling at his eyebrows that made Dean smile; he kind of liked it when Cas was being grumpy like that.

Once they were all standing, without any plans uttered, all three men just kind of ambled into the kitchen. With a glance at Jimmy and Dean, Cas wrinkled his nose, as he seemed to realize that he was the only one fully clothed, and still in work clothes at that. He started to pull at his tie, but Jimmy laid a hand to his chest and shook his head.

"No," Jimmy nearly whined. "Don’t. I like it."

Cas squinted at his brother incredulously before glancing over to Dean.

"I kind of like it too," Dean confessed with a little shrug. When Cas squinted harder, Dean continued, after a sigh. "I don't know, it's just…it's endearing. Your tie is always freakin' backward, you've usually missed at least one belt loop, and then with the messy hair. Pair all of that with the grumpy face, and you're kind of like a cat whose fur's been petted the wrong way."

Jimmy cackled and nodded his agreement, while Cas looked between the two of them with an unimpressed look. Dean had thought of Cas as cat-like many times, but that was the first time he'd ever vocalized as much. In fact, he hadn't really had the opportunity to tease Cas that much at all, but it felt kind of good, and Dean suspected that Cas didn't mind nearly as much as he acted like. Dean felt a momentary stab of guilt as he realized that Cas' appearance was almost certainly related to the fact that he was hung over most days, but then Jimmy elbowed Dean and grinned, as if he knew what Dean was thinking.

"I'd say that's about right, except for the fact that my brother's always been like that, regardless of what he wears. It may not have been ties and belt loops, but he did have a problem with remembering to zip his fly up in high school," Jimmy teased. "And the hair's always been a lost cause."

Cas patted a bit self-consciously at his hair, even as he frowned at Jimmy, and pulled his hand away when he realized he was doing it. Dean and Jimmy both chuckled at his reaction, and despite being the butt of the joke, Cas couldn't help but want to smile, himself. It'd been far too long since he'd seen Jimmy feel comfortable ribbing at him like that, and while Cas had had plenty of meaningful interactions with Dean, he'd never received that look of mirthful affection before. It was a desperately needed moment of levity for all of them, and for the first time in a long while, Cas felt a _pure_ sort of happiness. He also didn't miss the way Jimmy's eyes softened on him when their gazes caught, and had to consciously ignore the thought that he didn't deserve that look and just let himself enjoy the moment for what it was.

"So here's what's going to happen. I'm going to cook, Cas is going to help me, and Dean- you're going to sit at the bar and have a beer. An _actual_ beer," Jimmy said, glancing between his brother and boyfriend. His eyes dared them argue, and he let a smirk curl his lips when neither man challenged him.

"Good," Jimmy nodded to himself, then pulled a beer out of the fridge and popped the cap off. He blew across the mouth of the bottle to force the vapor out before handing it to Dean; Dean unfailingly got hiccups with the first swig of a bottled beer and insisted that it had to do with the vapor that would rise when the bottle was first opened.

Dean smiled lopsidedly at Jimmy's remembrance of his hiccup complaint, despite not having made it in over two months; Dean only allowed himself a low-carb beer every once in a while. Taking the first swig, Dean couldn't help but hum as the deep lager lingered over his taste buds after he'd swallowed. It'd been far too long since he'd tasted a real beer, and after the day he'd had, he couldn't really find it in himself to argue about calories at the moment, even if he knew that Jimmy would no doubt cook something that was definitely not on Dean's list of acceptable foods.

Instead, Dean settled into his seat at the bar in the kitchen to watch the other two men cook. It was always fascinating watching them share a space in any capacity. Regardless of mood or level of inebriation or any other variable, Cas and Jimmy moved around each other with an almost unbelievable sort of coordination, anticipating each other's movements and adjusting themselves accordingly, like a well-choreographed dance. Cas rarely cooked anything that didn't come with instructions, so Dean couldn't help but stare as he watched the man pull out ingredients and stir and chop with full confidence and perfect timing to Jimmy's needs.

Soon enough, the meal was completed and a full plate of food was being placed in front of Dean, before Cas and Jimmy joined him at the bar on either side with their own plates. It was a simple stir-fry of peppers, onions, mushrooms, and beef with steamed rice, but had undoubtedly been cooked with butter and regular-sodium soy sauce at some point; Dean was thrilled. Fattening enough to taste good, but not enough to drive Dean's mood too far into guilt territory.

"I think I'm going to resign tomorrow," Dean suddenly blurted.

Jimmy snapped his head over, and Cas' fork clattered to his plate as two sets of blue eyes turned to look at the man between them.

"What?" Dean said defensively, looking between the two other men. "Are you seriously surprised? I'm pretty sure it's what most people would do in my position."

"You're not most people," Cas replied quietly.

Dean didn't know how to respond to that and took a bite of his meal to avoid having to answer.

"You really aren't going to try and fight for your job?" Jimmy asked carefully. Dean was good at his job and seemed fairly happy doing it, but Jimmy also knew that part of that happiness came from the results that Dean saw of his work and not necessarily the work itself. He had no doubt that Dean could succeed at just about anything he put his mind to, and wondered sometimes if Dean would be happier doing something else. He'd never voiced this opinion, and was curious to see what Dean was going to say about this ordeal.

"Well, looking at this realistically, I'm probably going to be fired. Whether that's tomorrow or two weeks from now, it'll probably happen, and I'd rather get out with my severance than let them have the satisfaction of pushing me out. And even if I don't get fired, do you really see them letting me keep my position? No, they'll probably demote me to being someone's assistant to make an example of me. Hell, Zachariah would probably fire his own, just so he could have the pleasure of taking me on. Fuck that," Dean said bitterly, lips twisting in disgust at the very idea.

Neither Novak said anything for a moment, Cas feeling relieved that Dean still had some fight in him, and Jimmy trying to piece together how he should respond so as to not incense Dean's mood any further. It wasn't like Dean to be impulsive, and he wasn't sure if he should encourage it or not, even if the argument was sound. The three ate in silence for a minute, before Jimmy finally spoke.

"It makes sense," Jimmy said with a nod, forking up the last bite of his dinner. "But let me ask you something. How does the thought of quitting Sandover make you _feel_? And I don't mean joblessness, but the actual fact of not holding that particular position anymore?"

Cas stopped eating entirely to see what Dean would say and glanced gratefully at Jimmy for asking the question. As loaded as it was, it was something that in Cas' opinion, needed to be asked a long time ago.

Dean furrowed his brow in thought as he stared sightlessly at his plate. Jimmy leaned back in his seat a little and took a sip of his drink, so as to project non-judgment for whatever Dean's answer might be and glanced at Cas meaningfully behind Dean's back to get him to quit staring. When Cas was sober, his sense of focus and the way it showed in his eyes could be downright intimidating, even if he wasn’t trying to be. Catching the hint, Cas went back to his meal, though it was clear that he wasn't ignoring the conversation.

"I don't know," Dean began, absently poking at the food on his plate. "I've worked my ass off to get that job, you know? And to think of just walking away," he cut himself off with a shake of his head. "I don't know what I'd do with myself. But it's also kind of um…liberating?" Dean admitted quietly, cheeks burning hot with guilt.

Cas frowned and turned sideways in his seat to face Dean, knees bumping against the man's thigh. "Why do you feel bad about being relieved to get out of that hellhole? That job has been suffocating the life out of you as long as I've known you. Sure, it might feel good seeing your paystubs and gettin' shit done, but you can't seriously tell me you feel any fulfillment in that office of yours."

Dean and Jimmy gawked at the growl that Cas' voice had taken on, filled with so much more aggression than either of them had heard in a long time. And Cas knew it was hypocritical of him to try and chide someone else about being fulfilled, but at that moment couldn't bring himself to give a damn. It pissed him off, seeing a man such as Dean brought to timidity by the thought of his own happiness.

"Because my parents worked their asses off to put me through school so I could make something of myself and not end up like John!" Dean blustered, banging the bar with his fist.

Jimmy glared at his brother for pushing Dean, but Cas didn't budge. Instead, he gave Dean a moment to collect himself, as the man's nostrils were flaring with irritation, and his eyes were quickly gathering moisture. Once it felt safe, Cas reached over with the hesitance of person that wants to pet an angry dog and carefully covered Dean's fist with his hand. Dean closed his eyes and breathed deeply as Cas gently pried his fingers loose from the fist they were curled in and wove their fingers together.

"I may not know your whole history, but I know enough to feel completely confident in my assessment that you will **_not_** end up like John. Dean, your father was a broken man that didn't know how to pick up the pieces, but you are **_not_** broken. Maybe a little dinged up, but who isn't? Quitting a job isn't exactly in the same ballpark as quitting your family."

Leave it to Cas to cut right through the shit, Jimmy mused to himself. It was a trait that Jimmy could admit he wish he had sometimes, to just put the truth right out there and not feel a need to tiptoe. And in this case, it seemed to serve Cas well, because Dean leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment as he steadied his breathing. The twins were aware that Dean's father had abandoned him on Robert and Ellen Smith's doorstep- literally- when Dean was twelve, but it was something they never discussed for obvious reasons. Jimmy reached over and grabbed Dean's other hand now.

"As blunt as it was," Jimmy said, throwing a reproachful look Cas' way, "I have to agree with my brother. And throwing in my own two cents here, I'm pretty sure that your parents helped you because they wanted you to be happy, and not out of some preventative measure. They know you're grateful, and I'm going to assume you even paid them back every penny with interest in one way or another."

Jimmy knew he was right, by the blush that rose up on Dean's cheeks and continued on.

"You've proven yourself more than enough, Dean, and I don't think that anyone that knows you or matters would ever dismiss your value as a human being because of a job. And anyone who does? Fuck 'em. Those aren't the sort of people you want to surround yourself with, anyway. They're poison. You are not."

Dean let out a shuddering breath and abruptly swiveled his chair to hop down and stalk off to the bathroom without a word.

"I'm sorry," Cas said, the moment he was alone with his brother.

Jimmy sighed and shook his head. "Your delivery could've used some help, but he needed to hear it," he admitted. "Just give him a minute to process."

Cas let out a long breath and started gathering up the plates and forks to take them to the sink, then seemed to think better of it and put them in the dishwasher.

"What's going on with you today?" Jimmy asked curiously.

Cas' back stiffened where he was standing next to the sink, but he didn't turn around as he spoke.

"Nothing, don't worry about it."

"I'm not worried, Cas, I'm curious," Jimmy said, making his way over to his brother. Cas didn't respond other than to turn on the water and grab for the dish soap, which really was somewhat worrying. Jimmy had seen Cas experience bouts of paranoia and anxiety many times, but this brand of nervous behavior was different; Cas just wasn't prone to _doing_ when something was bothering him.

Coming up behind him, Jimmy wrapped one arm around Cas' waist and reached around him to take the soap away with the other and set it back down. Cas tensed, but didn't fight the movement. Now Jimmy could wrap both arms around him, and leaned into Cas' back, taking a deep breath as he felt Cas shift to take his weight. It had been a long time since they'd just touched for comfort like that, and god did Jimmy miss it. Sure, their adventures with Dean in the bedroom were nice, as was familiarity of sleeping next to each other sometimes, but Jimmy needed to feel the inherent strength that Cas seemed to possess, even if it wasn't like it used to be. Because Cas wasn't broken, either, despite what he may think of himself, and Jimmy sensed that Cas' "pep talk" to Dean wasn't just for Dean's benefit.

"I promise I'll talk to you about it tomorrow, but I think all three of us have had enough sharing and caring for the day," Cas said quietly, bringing a hesitant hand to cover one of Jimmy's where it rested over his stomach.

Jimmy didn't want to get his hopes up for what he suspected was his brother having reached some sort of point with himself in the last twenty four hours, but he couldn't help but confirm at least something.

"Okay. But…can I just say that you seem like you're maybe doing a little better today?"

"Yeah, you can say that. I- I am, sort of," Cas said, the end lilting up like a question.

Giving a little squeeze with his arms, Jimmy pressed a couple of gentle kisses behind Cas' ear.

"Good. I'm glad to hear that," he said sincerely. He also wanted to thank Cas for keeping a clear head, but refrained for fear of poking the bear.

Cas seemed to get it though, because then he turned in Jimmy's arms and buried his face in the crook of Jimmy's neck. He began to sweep a comforting palm up and down Jimmy's back, and Jimmy sighed, leaning into the touch. It had been far too long since Cas had felt like he could do anything to take care of Jimmy, and could tell by the slight hitch of Jimmy's breath and the way he relaxed into Cas' whole body that he'd been mistaken. Cas squeezed tighter to his brother, as if in some small way it could make up for how long he'd left Jimmy to always have to be the strong one. When they were younger, it had always been Cas doing the protecting, the comforting, taking the blame upon himself when Jimmy messed up. When their roles reversed, it had nothing to do with Cas feeling like doing these things was a burden; Cas just simply couldn't take care of himself anymore, much less another person.

"I know I've said it before, but it had nothing to do with you. And I'm sorry if you've felt abandoned. Still love you," Cas confessed, voice quiet and ragged with emotion.

Jimmy inhaled sharp breath of surprise. While it was true that Cas had said as much before, it felt different this time. If it weren't for the fact that Cas had seemed off all day, but in a good way, Jimmy probably would have internally rolled his eyes at the sentiment. Right now though, it felt more sincere than any emotion besides anger that Jimmy had witnessed of his brother in a long time, and he couldn't help the nervous laugh that bubbled up.

Cas pulled away to frown slightly, and it only served to remind Jimmy of the 'wrongly-petted cat' analogy Dean had given earlier, and more laughter bubbled up unbidden. Jimmy knew it was the completely wrong reaction to the moment they'd been having and quickly gathered Cas' face in his hands.

"I'm sorry, I swear to god I'm not laughing at you. I don't know why that happened honestly," Jimmy said, a residual smile still frustratingly pulling at his lips. Cas searched his face for a moment before seeming to accept Jimmy's apology.

"Actually, it's a somewhat involuntary stress response, as a way for the brain to reassure itself that times will get better. The human mind is programmed to associate laughter with-" Cas began, but cut himself off when he caught the fond glimmer in Jimmy's eyes.

Cas had always been the curious, booksmart one between them, and Jimmy couldn't help but lean in and press a kiss to Cas' temple. Despite his many changes, Cas had never stopped being sort of a nerd, and it was something that Jimmy had always loved about him.

"I've missed you," Jimmy murmured.

Well fuck if that didn't make Cas want to cry now, but he didn't dare allow himself. The last couple hours had been so emotionally tense, Cas was certain that if he let himself cry it wouldn't stop, and he'd spilled enough distraught tears around his brother for a lifetime. Plus, there was the fact that the other man he loved was trying to piece himself back together in the bathroom, and this wasn't the time for Cas to wallow in his own shit. So instead of a verbal response, Cas turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss to Jimmy's lips.

Cas' mental analogy of Dean gathering the pieces of himself was definitely apt. Once the door had shut behind him, Dean had practically flung himself against the sink, fingers clutching the edges as he steadied himself. How in the ever-loving fuck could Cas and Jimmy possibly have so much faith in Dean? He desperately wanted to argue their points, that they didn't know what Dean was capable of. That he'd already proven at one point in his life that he could be exactly like his father: a bitter, careless drunk that would run the moment things got hard.

When Dean was sixteen, John had shown up out of the clear blue and had tried to reclaim him like a pair of sunglasses in a lost-and-found box. Of course he'd railed and bellowed on the Smiths' doorstep when they'd told him flatly that Dean was legally theirs with adoption papers and all, and had even taken their last name of his own free will. John had cursed and spat every venomous word he could before Ellen shut the door in his face, but Dean heard every bit of it from his bedroom window; how John had laughed bitterly as he reminded Dean's parents that he'd dropped 'that ungrateful little shit' off for a reason, and good luck to them. How Dean needed to be reminded of where he comes from and get all those high-and-mighty delusions out of his head. How he was poison. There was plenty more, but Dean had been too stunned at the time to catch it all, head swimming in all the memories of his childhood.

John had finally left that night, when his parents threatened to call the cops on him for trespassing, and two hours later was dead, after wrapping his Impala around a tree. Dean couldn't help but think at the time that if only he'd gone with John, the man would still be alive. Not that he loved the man, but in Dean's mind, no one deserved to die heartbroken and alone.

After the funeral, Dean had dashed to the house and packed a duffle with a few sets of clothes and some basic survival necessities, made sure he had his butterfly knife, and took off before his parents could get there. In his grief and trauma-addled brain, Dean had decided that his parents didn't deserve to be saddled with a kid that would only disappoint them, and figured he'd take the burden off of them. Three weeks later, they found him in Kansas, passed out drunk and dirty in a stolen car parked outside the cemetery where his mother was buried.

He'd been sent to counseling and put on antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds and slowly began the healing process. He also rebuilt the Impala with help from the man he considered to be his Dad; it was therapeutic, oddly enough. By the time he graduated high school, Dean Smith was a man that was determined to do everything he could to prove that he wouldn't become his father. And once he'd graduated with his MBA, he'd paid off the rest of his parents' mortgage as soon as his bank account had allowed it. It certainly had felt good, despite his parents' unhappy grumblings about it, but the lingering fear of becoming like John had never truly left.

And now here he was, being told by not one, but two of the best people he'd ever known that he was enough. His parents and sister had told him that many times over the years, but it's harder to believe when it's your family, because that's what they're supposed to do. There's no way Jimmy could've known that a simple word choice like 'poison' would affect Dean so deeply, but it was exactly what he'd needed to hear, regardless of how hard Dean wanted to fight him. It hurt in the same way that Cas' touch had hurt earlier, and Dean didn't bother holding back the tears this time.

Dean despised the fact that he needed approval so desperately, and pulled at his own hair as he fought the urge to put his fist through the mirror in anger with himself. Why couldn't he just be normal? Whatever that was. Why couldn't he just feel good about something he'd accomplished all on his own? He'd worked himself to the bone, climbing that stupid corporate ladder, lapping up praise and bonuses like water in a desert, and Dean suddenly felt nauseous with disgust at himself. But then a startlingly obvious thought occurred to him: _he had worked himself to the bone_. He'd done that work himself, and had rightfully earned every promotion and penny he received. The motivation behind his work may have been misplaced, but dammit, everything he had was all _him_.

Dean glanced up to the mirror and grimaced as he took in the puffiness of his eyes and the shadows beneath them from too many stressful hours at work. In fact, he almost looked downright sallow, and couldn't remember the last time he'd looked any different. Maybe…maybe Cas had a point. It was true that Dean's chest always puffed with each sale and paycheck, but he drew a blank when he tried to summon up an emotion about the times in-between, spent at his desk or on the phone. The closest he could come up with was something resembling 'meh'. And really? That was the best he could do? All that schooling and the all-nighters to ensure he kept nothing less than a 3.8, all the meetings and expensive suits and vacations skipped, and the only feeling he could summon about the job he'd worked so hard to get was… _meh_?

Well. Now that he thought about it that way, it was actually about fifteen shades of embarrassing. Because who in the hell spends ten years of their life working so hard for something so utterly uninspiring? A ridiculous, mediocre coward, that's who. The only part of his life that wasn't mediocre was the two men out in the other room, and that was unacceptable. If nothing else, they deserved more than what he'd been giving them of himself, which was admittedly, only a thin sliver. And as long as he was living a day-in and day-out of 'meh', there was no way that he could possibly deserve anyone's respect, when he didn't even respect himself for it.

When it came down to it, Dean knew that it wasn't the end of the world, and that he could find another job. He wasn't even worried about the income; Jimmy had been kind enough to re-work Dean's financial plan in a way that was so successful, he could probably retire in the next couple years and live comfortably for the rest of his life. With this thought, the decision was made, because there really _wasn't_ anything holding him back.

Tomorrow, Dean would quit Sandover. He would take some time to figure out what he really wanted and start over because _this_ was how he was going to avoid becoming John; by working toward a future, instead of getting lost in the past and stagnating in the present. Feeling as confident as he could after such an emotionally wrought day, Dean splashed some water on his face, patted his hair back down, and took a deep breath as he exited the bathroom.

The twins startled when they heard the bathroom door open and looked as one over at Dean, but didn't pull apart. It was clear that he'd been crying, but his body language spoke of resolve, and that he was done feeling sorry for himself, at least for the rest of the night. The twins both took it as a good sign and both grinned slightly at the man in front of them. He glanced curiously between them, understandably confused at the intimate show of affection between them, but seemed relieved more than anything.

"I just have a couple of things to say. For one, I'm quitting tomorrow, and will figure out what comes next after that. And two, if I don't watch something with guns and/or explosions and zone out, I'm gonna lose my shit. And for three…I fully intend on being part of a Novak sandwich in one form or another for the rest of the night," Dean said, waggling his eyebrows.

Cas and Jimmy both chuckled at that and pulled apart to walk over to the living room. Dean beat them to the couch and pulled up their digital movie collection and started skimming through it as the twins joined him, one on each side. No one complained when he landed on Bandits, and all three settled in comfortably in a sort of pile. All three men were emotionally drained and grateful for the distraction. The tension of the last couple hours was nothing like the three of them had ever experienced together, and while it hadn't been pleasant, Jimmy was glad that they'd all seemed able to maneuver it together.

If the three of them could work together on this, then there was hope that whatever other trials would come their way could be dealt with as well. And Jimmy was no fool; he knew that tomorrow could be a whole different story. It was unlikely that Cas would be able to stay sober the whole day, realistically, especially once he got out with whatever it was that he needed to talk about. Dean would probably grieve his job for several days and drive everyone crazy with somewhat neurotic behaviors, and Jimmy himself would probably be on an emotional rollercoaster for the next bit as they all adjusted to their own individual changes. After all, it was clear that something had changed within each of them, though none were privy to the extent of each man's sense of self-awareness.

It was okay though, because the need for growth had been looming on the horizon for all of them, and as challenging as the next few months would be, it would be worth it. Jimmy would still nag at Dean for spending money on a condo he rarely slept at when he could just move in with them. Dean would continue to make unattractive faces and annoying noises when he was bored, and Cas would still manage to somehow dirty up more clothes in a week than the other two combined. These small things probably wouldn't change anytime soon, and Jimmy drew an odd sort of comfort from that as he glanced at the other two men on the couch. Life was about to change and shift into a new era, but this time, there was hope.

**Author's Note:**

> If you feel so inclined, feel free to drop by my [Tumblr](http://surly-cat.tumblr.com). You can also check the progress of my other works on the [surlycat writes](http://surly-cat.tumblr.com/tagged/surlycat+writes) tag.


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